


You are my better half

by SlyKing



Series: Good Omens Soulmates AU (english) [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Aziraphale's Name is Ezra (Good Omens), Crowley's Name is Anthony (Good Omens), First Meetings, Human Aziraphale (Good Omens), Human Crowley (Good Omens), I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Reincarnation, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:35:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25885189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlyKing/pseuds/SlyKing
Summary: Ezra’s throat suddenly tightened and he wanted to cry, his chest compressed with gratitude. He felt as if he had just found something precious and, met by a gaze as puzzled as was his own, he felt at home. [...] And then, quite naturally, the man reached out to him."Anthony Crowley." He dropped with a certain detachment which, however, was anything but detachment.-In this Alternative Universe, Aziraphale and Crowley are soulmates; they reincarnate at different times and always find each other. Each part can be read separately. ;)
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens Soulmates AU (english) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1783558
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	You are my better half

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to my beta reader, **Wendighost**

Like every morning, Ezra Fell had his habits. Walking down the stairs of his shop (over which he had moved after his father’s death, four years beforehand), heating water in the kitchen, turning on the record player to broadcast classical music and looking out the window. A few clouds darkened the London’s sky, today. Ezra sighed ; the weather wasn’t ideal for a walk in St James Park and that saddened him. What other excuse was he going to find to invite Anthony Crowley to go out with him ? A lunch would probably be a bit presumptuous (after all, they had only seen each other three times so far), and he wouldn’t asking him to come for tea in the afternoon either.  
Since he had met this man, Ezra could no remove him from his mind. He felt like he had known him for years while they had only met recently. With a tender smile, Ezra infused his tea in a cup, thoughtful. He sat on a chair in front of the kitchen table, dreaming as he thought about their first encounter.

_Three weeks earlier_

Ezra was hastening on his way home. He needed to hurry if he did not want to be surprised by the rain ; at this time of year, the weather could be very capricious. The weather was so nice when he left the shop earlier this morning, but now a storm was roaring in the distance. He rushed into the park to take a shortcut and noticed with amusement all the families who came to spend the afternoon here were now hurrying packing up their belongings and go home. While forcing the pace, he squeezed a small package against his chest. In the morning, he had picked up some books from an old bookseller, a little further in town, and he was absolutely delighted to count them amongst his collection. He did not want to sell them; some works had to be jealously guarded for themselves. Those old Oscar Wilde editions were part of it.

A few drops began to fall as Ezra reached the other end of the park. He immediately tucked his head into his shoulders, as if to protect himself, but the gesture was useless. There was a rumble in the sky, and suddenly it was pouring. Ezra hid his books under his cloak and rushed into the street, hoping to see the bus arrive so that he could climb it. He turned his head right and left, and tightened his jacket around his package, suddenly very worried about the cover of his books. _Three minutes of waiting._ He hesitated for a moment before waiting near to the bus stop like a picket, his arms wrapped around him. _Why did I not think of taking my umbrella,_ he thought, frowning. Preoccupied by his own stupidity, he was surprised by the presence of a man beside him, and the muffled sound of rain over his head. He lifted up his eyes. A stranger, looking away but smiling, had just given him a temporary shelter. Ezra opened his mouth, dumbstrucked, but relieved. His shoulders relaxed, but he kept his books against him.

“Thank you.” he said. “It’s very kind of you.”

The man grumbled an answer that Ezra did not fully understand but he thought he heard the words it’s nothing, among other things. Ezra timidly scrutinised him. He was a little taller than him and wore a dark jacket that refined his already slender silhouette; his skin looked pale under the grey reflections of the end of the day. His black hair did not quite reach his shoulders, but almost, and when their eyes met, Ezra was left mesmerized. He did not remember having seen any like it: something between brown and gold, very warm. Ezra’s throat suddenly tightened and he wanted to cry, his chest compressed with gratitude. He felt as if he had just found something precious and, met by a gaze as puzzled as was his own, he felt at home. _Don’t be silly, Ezra, how sentimental you are being today._ Yet they couldn’t detach their eyes from each other. And then, quite naturally, the man reached out to him.

"Anthony Crowley." He dropped with a certain detachment which, however, was anything but detachment. Ezra stared at this hand before grabbing it in a blink of an eye.  
“Ezra Fell.” He replied warmly.  
"Um. You shouldn’t go out without your umbrella in this weather."

 _How lucky I am to have forgotten it_ , thought Ezra without expressing this phrase aloud. He just smiled.

"Oh, I did not expect rain in the middle of the afternoon !" he protested with a frown. This reply seemed to amuse the man named Anthony ; corner of his lips stretched out with a smile.  
“Probably not.”  
“And you saved my books,” added Ezra, crushing the package he held in his hands. Anthony lowered his eyes and arched an eyebrow.  
“So it seems.”

The silence fell between them, a tense, awkward silence. The two of them seemed to want to add something without really knowing where to start. Ezra rested his eyes on Anthony, who stared resolutely at the street in front of them ; Ezra noticed Anthony’s shoulders were slightly stretched and that his fingers revolved around the sleeve of his umbrella. _He turned his cane the same way when we..._ Ezra frowned. The memory and these images vanished as quickly as they had appeared in the first place and he could not put his finger on them any longer. The bus interrupted his trouble and he was slightly startled at the sound of the engine approaching.

“Are you coming in?” Ezra asked Anthony, shaking his head.  
“No.”  
"Oh." Surprised and a little disappointed, Ezra reached out to him and smiled radiantly. “I’d like to thank you, please don’t hesitate to come and see me. My shop is in Soho, at 19 Greek Street. I’ll give you a discount if you like reading … And if you don’t, well, I ca,d always offer you a cup of tea."  
“This is really unnecessary…” began to protest Anthony.  
“I insist.”  
Anthony hesitated for a brief moment before shaking his hand back and scraping his throat.  
"I’ll think about it," he quickly mumbled.

Ezra was relieved to hear those words, which were still better than a no. He nodded and hurried in the bus. As the doors closed behind him, he glanced through the window. Behind the raindrops sliding against the glass, he saw Anthony, his face concealed by his dark umbrella. When the bus started, its silhouette became smaller and smaller before disappearing.

_* Nowadays*_

They met again, one week after this first encounter. Ezra felt good in the company of Anthony and, if he had to be quite honest, he enjoyed every moment they had shared. He did not exactly understand what caused this feeling of familiarity he experienced as soon as they were together, but it was not unpleasant. At the turn of a conversation, he had learned that Anthony was doing several small jobs here and there in a temping agency; he passed from removal man to ice-cream salesman, or from security guard to pet-sitter. He had also learned his age, thirty-five years, a year younger than him, and had noticed the way Anthony looked away when he was embarrassed as his whole body gave off an assurance that would surely deceive most people. Ezra, however, had the impression that this confidence was only a façade, and that Anthony was much less sure of him than he pretended to. He was sometimes a little grumpy, but he was interested in everything that Ezra had shown him when he came to visit him at the bookshop.

_*Two weeks earlier*_

Ezra did not have many clients on weekdays, which was not to displease him because he loved books so much than selling them was almost painful. Needless to say, this part of the job was not really his strong suit. He cherished the appearance of his bookshop, the books neatly stored in their shelves, the smell of the old pages, and he did not particularly appreciate being interrupted in what he considered his business. That is why a sigh escaped his lips when he heard the bell of the front door ring.. He came out of the back of the shop with his eyebrows slightly wrinkled.

“How can I…” seeing the fine figure of Anthony Crowley he did not finish his sentence. “Oh.” his expression changed completely and his face softened. “Hello.” He greeted him warmly without daring to cross the distance between them. 

Anthony was still wearing black. A dark jacket, bleached jeans and, this time, sunglasses were hiding his eyes. _What a pity…_ Ezra remembered his welcoming eyes and regretted not being able to contemplate them again as they faced each other in an awkward silence.

“Hello.” Anthony finally replied, taking a few steps, looking around him. Ezra put his hands behind his back; if he was proud of one thing, it was this place that he held fervently, especially in memory of his father who had transmitted to him the passion of books and, more generally, of literature.  
Finally, Anthony interrupted his inspection while arriving in front of Ezra. Ezra could not see his eyes but he still felt very closely observed behind the glass. He swallowed before extending an anxious hand to his visitor.

“I didn’t expect to see you again. I’m really glad you decided to drop by.”  
A sincere smile marked his words, for he was delighted. He tried to calm the beating of his heart down when Anthony’s hand grabbed his to squeeze it with a formal handshake. Yet he felt the sweetness of his fingers, and the familiarity of this brief embrace.  
“I didn’t really plan on coming at first.”  
“I’m glad you changed your mind.” Realizing the clumsiness of his sentence, Ezra cleared his throat before making a large gesture of the hand to designate the shelves. “N-Need some advice?”  
Anthony took another look around and Ezra noticed he seemed a little uncomfortable.  
“Actually, I’m not a big fan of reading. Books… s‘not really my thing.”  
“Oh.” Ezra simply replied. Books couldn’t be everyone’s thing after all. “I promised you a cup of tea, then. Do you like tea?” he said worriedly because he had nothing else to offer. Anthony nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets.  
“Yes. Tea is fine.”

Ezra nodded vigorously and hastened to close the store under Anthony’s intrigued gaze; he then invited the young man to follow him to the back of the store and went away for a few minutes to boil some water.  
Once in the kitchen, he tried to calm the beating of his heart and the trembling of his hands. _Damn it, Ezra._ This situation disturbed him; if Anthony had not left his thoughts since this curious encounter near the bus stop, he did not expect him to accept his invitation. But the man who had sheltered him from the rain and had seemed so familiar, so close, was indeed there, in the next room.  
This intriguing man with such a warm, confident and yet almost fearful look. This man he felt he knew but knew nothing about.  
Ezra took a light breath before grabbing two cups from a cupboard and pouring tea once infused. Anthony had already been waiting for far too long, he would end up feeling neglected. Ezra did not forget the cookies and returned to the small living room, in the back of his shop. Anthony was still standing there with his hands in his pockets, focused on a small statuette of an angel placed in front of a few books on a shelf. When Ezra placed the cups on the coffee table, he turned around and the corner of his lips stretched half a smile. He took off his glasses, to Ezra’s delight.

“That’s nice.” Anthony thanked him.  
"It’s the least I can do!"  
“You don’t have to thank me,” began Anthony before being cut off with a gesture of the hand from Ezra, who invited him to sit down. So he sat on the couch and obediently grabbed one of the two cups.  
“Nonsense. I want to, and I’m glad you came. You really saved my life, you know? Or at least the life of my books.”  
“You seem to like them a lot.”  
“Yes. These were particularly important; old Oscar Wilde editions. They are not found every day, and certainly not just anywhere.”  
“And you intend to sell them?”  
“Oh, no! Certainly not.”

Anthony bowed an eyebrow before letting an amused chuckle escape his lips; this sound resonated as the most beautiful music to Ezra’s ears who was already hoping to hear it more often.

“It was more of a personal purchase,” Ezra said. “But I have to admit I don’t like to sending away my old books…”

Again, Anthony’s laugh rang.

“A bookseller who does not sell books?” he teased him. “It’s quite uncommon, I like it.”

Ezra slightly shrugged, but smiled as he felt his cheeks tinting red. I like it.

“And you, my dear, what are you doing?”  
“Oh, little jobs here and there. It depends on the week.”

Ezra nodded, curious by this description. He watched Anthony taste the tea and saw his intrigued look.

“It’s Bai Mu Dan, white tea. I should have asked you before.”  
“No, no, it’s very good. I’ve never tasted it… It smells like peony.”

Ezra noticed the smile, almost nostalgic that bloomed on Anthony’s lips and he was astonished. However, his expression quickly changed as he was already taking another sip. The tension in Ezra’s shoulders loosened and he caught a cookie. 

"So, what about your jobs?"  
“Nothing interesting, really. I’m in a temping agency and the contracts are never very long. A week here, a week there.”  
“It seems pretty precarious, doesn’t it?”  
“A little bit, yes, but I don’t mind. I think I’d get bored doing the same thing over and over again.”  
“Tell me, then, what is your best experience among your little jobs?”

Anthony arched an eyebrow, no one seemed to have ever asked him the question - or he never wondered. However, the answer was not long in coming, and without hesitation he declared:

“Gardener.”

Ezra looked at him with increasing interest. Now that he thought about it, he could quite picture him, watering can in hand, kneeling before some blue and yellow pansies. A broad smile stretched Ezra’s lips in front of these images and he joined his hands, experiencing both an unexpected joy and a strange, inexplicable pride.

“Oh! Wonderful!”  
“Wonderful?” amused Anthony, who clearly did not expect this reaction.  
“Sure! What were you doing, exactly? What gardens did you look after?”  
“I… I was doing a couple of greenhouses at Chelsea Physics Garden.”

Ezra opened his mouth a little. He had been there once or twice; the place was gorgeous, relaxing, well maintained, pleasant.

“It’s fabulous, you had to enjoy it! It’s a beautiful place. Why did you stop?”  
“Because they didn’t need someone full time. My contract stopped. I had other things to do…”

Anthony spoke in a funny way, but Ezra felt it was important to him. Their eyes met and, for a moment, Ezra had the impression he was with a very old friend. Caught off guard, his breath ran out and he felt like he almost wanted to cry. Just like when they first met. Anthony, who looked like he felt the same way, averted his eyes and quickly drank another sip of tea. Then he changed the subject:

“What about you? Have you been selling books for a long time?”  
“No, not really. I took over the shop when my father died four years ago. I really like books, you see, they’re very precious to me. But I don’t really have the commercial fibre and... And the customers bore me.”

Anthony chuckled even more; but it was not a mocking laugh, more of an expression of tenderness and amusement.

“But why don’t you try something else? You can keep the place to live, perhaps, and put your energy into an occupation you would like better?”

Ezra had a gentle smile and shook his head.

“I never really thought of doing anything else and… To be completely honest, I don’t know exactly what I would like to do with my life.” he had a nervous laugh. "It’s silly, isn’t it? I am Thirty-six, one would assume I knew by now."

Anthony leaned his head slightly, observing him, and strangely enough, Ezra didn’t felt judged by his amber gaze.

“You know, age doesn’t really matter. I’m thirty-five, and yet I’m still doing little jobs. What do you like to do? Aside from reading, I guess. Or keep old editions in closets.”

Ezra had a little smile.

“Really, I don’t know… Maybe… Oh, no, that’s silly.”  
“Try me.”  
“Maybe write a few lines myself… But I’m not sure I can find the right words, the right sentences— It would feel extremely vain for me to say that…”  
“So what? If that’s what you like, go for it.”

Ezra considered him for a moment.

“Well… I’ll think about it. Possibly.” 

Ezra gave him a shy smile before biting in another biscuit while Anthony finished his tea. The rest of the conversation drifted on much lighter topics, until the clock against the wall rand 6pm. Then Anthony rose, imitated by Ezra.

“I… It was nice. Tea. And discussion, of course.” Anthony mumbled, apparently not used to this kind of situation. Ezra did not take umbrage and smiled with affection.  
“Yes, it was …” Ezra seemed to think about the right way, the right words to describe the moment they had just shared. A perfect moment, a moment of harmony, of symbiosis, during which Ezra felt understood and complete. Fabulous. Magical. Extraordinary. “Perfect. Absolutely … tickety-boo!”  
"T-Tickety-boo?' Anthony raised his eyebrows and his mouth opened with a smile before he burst with an irrepressible laugh. Ezra could only join him and placed an affectionate hand on Anthony’s arm.

They looked straight into each other’s eyes. Ezra felt his heart racing, beating in his ear, banging against his chest as if it were trying to escape. Time suspended its course. Only those biting eyes in which Ezra was getting lost still mattered. Short-breathed, he thought he remembered, for a brief moment, exchanging the same look before. A much sadder look, however. A lost look. Wounded. Desperate. Once again, Ezra wanted to cry. His throat squeezed painfully and he turned his head, with his lips pinched. He felt as if he was waking up from a dream. When he turned his attention back to Anthony, he noticed that he looked just as confused and lost. He broke the silence with a throat scraping and smiled at Ezra trying to relax his shoulders to look cool again. He put his glasses back on his nose, breaking any form of concrete contact, and headed for the door. Upon seeing him reach the handle, Ezra felt his knees bend, his hands tremble. He gently approached Anthony. He didn’t want him to leave.

“Will we see each other again soon?”

Anthony seemed to hesitate and mumbled one:

“Yeah, probably. One of these days.”

And then, without saying goodbye, he left. And Ezra stood in the midst of his store, his eyes fixed on the door shut, his eyes wide, and his heart beating sorely against his breast. He felt tears sliding down his cheeks. The afternoon had been exquisite, so what was happening ?  
Ezra wrapped his arms around him as if he were trying to compact the incomprehensible pain that overwhelmed him, and closed his eyes.

_*One week earlier*_

It took a week before fate reunited them again. Made miserable by their last meeting, sadness had given way to bitterness and resentment. Anthony had left in a rude, indelicate and hurried manner without even thanking him properly. Oh, of course, Ezra didn’t invite him expecting some gratitude he knew this was just the way this pleasant afternoon ended. Brutally, without even the assurance of seeing him again. Had he offended him in any way? Did he made him feel uncomfortable ? Embarrass him ? Ezra played over in his mind every second of their discussion, paying attention to every detail and yet he still did not understand. He remembered Anthony’s look, almost vulnerable, in his memories, wounded, confused. But he couldn’t figure out if it was his imagination or...or something else. Ezra exhaled deeply. Truth be told, no matter how hard he tried, he remained clueless as to the reason why. He had never experienced such emotions, had never felt such strong and disturbing feelings, much less so suddenly.

In order to change his mind, Ezra decided to go for a walk in Saint James Park; he liked it there because he could feed the ducks when he needed some fresh air or wanted to think. The place was nice and well located. It was beautiful, but not too hot; this time, the rain did not take him by surprise. Hence, he could even sit on a bench and enjoy a sunny afternoon reading. Doing so cheered him up a little, and when he arrived at the park at the end of the afternoon, a little bag full of dry bread and a book under his arm, his heart already felt a bit lighter. He walked down the paths for a few minutes, a smile of contentment on his lips. Happiness is to be found in the simplest things in the end. He stopped by the lake and looked at its surface for a few minutes before throwing some bread at greedy ducks who rushed to bicker. 

“Have you not been told bread is not recommended for ducks?” said a voice behind his back.

Ezra almost dropped both the bread and his book in surprise. He turned around.

“Anthony!” he exclaimed without being able to prevent a primitive joy from hitting his stomach.

Indeed, Anthony stood there, dressed in a light black shirt and matching pants. He was still wearing his usual sunglasses that concealed his gaze, but Ezra perceived some fun behind the tinted glass. However, the profound glee which had just struck him suddenly vanished, making way for an almost childish sulk. He frowned and turned his head back to the water, pretending his interest to be focused here again.

“Well, no, I was never told so” he said harsher than he would have liked.

He felt Anthony coming closer so they soon came to face the lake, side by side. A slight grunt escaped his improvised companion’s lips but Ezra could not determine the exact meaning behind it. He did not dare look at him and wondered why he reacted like that, like a stubborn child.

“The water swells the bread up and can choke them.” Anthony muttered. “It’s safer to give them seeds.”  
“Oh.” Ezra said, suddenly worried about these poor ducks.  
“B-But I’m sure it doesn’t happen very often anyway.” The response seemed hasty, as if he were trying to reassure Ezra, to remove all guilt. “I always wondered if ducks had ears,” he continued. “I guess they have, huh? How would they hear other ducks otherwise ?”

A laugh escaped from Ezra’s lips in front of this strange thought and he turned his head to Anthony, his anger somewhat appeased - but still in a corner of his mind. They seemed to have already had this conversation here, in exactly the same place, Anthony and him. They presence felt both reassuring and familiar, sometimes exasperating but always desired.

“Really, my dear?”  
“What? Am I not allowed to ask existential questions?”

“What are you doing here?” Ezra asked him with a detached, playful manner - or so he hoped.  
“I sometimes walk around here, to get some fresh air.”  
“Really? So do I! I really like this park; I don’t know if you have ever had the opportunity to come here during fall but the trees are beautiful with their orange colors.”  
“Uh. No. Well, yes, I’ve already been here at fall. I just.... Not really noticed the color of the trees.”  
“Oh, well, if we… I mean… If _you_ came back here at fall, you’d be able to see it. The ducks usually find shelter there, near the willow tree,” he added, pointing to the middle of the lake, where stood a small islet.  
Anthony said nothing, but his look seemed to follow Ezra’s finger, and his face softened in a strange way. He seemed nostalgic again.  
“Anthony, is everything okay?”  
“Yeah, sure.” Anthony replied, clearing his throat. “I just… Look, Ezra, uh… About the other day… It was really rude of me to leave like that. For what it’s worth, I … _Imsorry._ ”

A little silence followed this statement before Ezra spoke:

“Actually, no.”  
“No? Hey! I’m really trying to...”  
“No. You can’t apologize like that.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Oh, I don’t know, you can say, _I’m sorry I left like a savage, without even a good-bye and without even asking you on another date._ ” corrected Ezra before realizing what he had just said. He looked down, uncomfortable. “Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put it that way.”

Anthony let out a small, surprised laugh, he had certainly not expected this answer but he nodded, agreeding.

“Okay, I deserve it. What I meant is… I… I felt bad for leaving so roughly. I’m not sure why, it was stupid of me,” he grumbled. “Actually… I might have panicked a little, okay?”  
“Oh, really?” asked Ezra, kindly mocking him. At the words, his face softened, having suddenly lost its severe frown.  
“Hey, I was really mad at myself! It was nice, the tea, the cookies and all that.”  
“Actually, it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s forgotten. Pfiout! Let’s not talk about it no more,” Ezra replied, pushing the subject away with a gesture from the hand.  
“Really?” Anthony asked, suddenly so relieved his shoulders relaxed at once. He dared a shy smile. “I… Ok. Here’s my phone number, then.”

Ezra blinked several times watching him pull his phone out of his pocket. Instinctively he did the same and preciously noted Anthony’s number in his contacts.

“Thank you…” Ezra said; a light smile appearing on his face.  
“Just in case, you know. If you want to see me again or something.”  
“Of course!” exclaimed Ezra, perhaps a little too quick to access this request.

Anthony’s face lightened up as well and they both started walking side by side in the park, as if they had always done so. They spent a good part of the afternoon there before parting ways, with a proper goodbye this time, and the promise to see each other again soon.

_* Nowadays*_

Bad weather had never been a great friend to Anthony Crowley. A cup of coffee in his right hand, he watched the rain fall on London, displeased. He wanted to take advantage of his day off to invite Ezra to St James Park; the only place they both frequented, to his knowledge. He wanted to see him again from the day he met him, in the distance, trembling under a thundering rain, squeezing his books against him to protect them. Anthony did not really explain it to himself but he felt a surge of sympathy for him and he thanked Heaven for having put him on his way that day. Since then, all he could think about was this man. It felt strange to him, having never until then felt neither the desire, nor the need, to make friends or to maintain a relationship. And now he could only think of this little bookseller with smiling sympathy. Ngk. Maybe he could still invite Ezra for a coffee somewhere in town? If they couldn’t see each other today, it would postpone their next meeting for a few weeks - too long for him to take.

An annoyed sigh escaped Anthony’s lips as he grabbed his phone. Scrolling though his contacts he stopped his finger on Ezra’s name. _At worst he’ll say no. Come on, this is just a coffee!_ he thought, bracing himself before sending this little text:

_**“Hi Ezra,  
Coffee this afternoon? Or tea. If you’re free. I know a pretty cool place in town. They also serve muffins.”** _

All the reasons he could think of were there. He waited, his eyes glued to the screen of his phone while tirelessly rereading his own message. He didn’t have to wait that long, the answer soon came.

_**“Hello Anthony,  
Unfortunately, with this rain, it seems compromised.”** _

And that was itl. Anthony gave a sigh, disappointed. Of course Ezra didn’t want to see him this afternoon for a coffee because it was pouring cats and dogs! _Of course_. Anthony shook his head. _Stupid, stupid!_ What about offering to pick Ezra up with his car? No, no. That would be too pushy. He just had to let it go and try another time, when the weather would be nice again. Bloody weather. At this thought, another answer appeared on the screen.

_**“But if it suits you, I would be more than happy to invite you to have tea at my house. Or coffee. I don’t have muffins, though. I hope a few cookies are alright with you.”** _

Anthony’s heart skipped some beats; fortunately no one else could witness the wide smile that stretched his lips, the large grin he was a little ashamed of. How could he be so happy with just simple words on a screen? _Stupid, stupid!_

 _ **"Great. What time ?"**_ he answered immediately.  
_**“I’m waiting for you at four o’clock.”**_

When the bell rang four, Anthony’s Bentley was parked near Ezra’s shop, and at four past one, Anthony was already inside. He was immediately welcomed by the warm silhouette of the bookseller whose smile radiated with kindness and softness. Under the light of the chandelier, his blond hair looked almost unreal, shining with an aura that made him almost look like an angel. With an uneasy gesture, Anthony handed him a box; he had stopped on the way here to buy some cookies from a pastry baker. Ezra seemed surprised and delighted.

“Thank you, Anthony, thank you so much! You didn’t have to, really”  
“Don’t thank me, it makes me happy,” Anthony mumbled, having never been very comfortable with the outpourings of gratitude.

Just like last time, Ezra leaded him into the backshop and offered him a seat. Anthony sat on the comfortable couch as his host disappeared into the kitchen. He took off his sunglasses and hung them on his shirt before analysing the room. Everything looked a little old-fashioned, as if belonging to another time, another era. And yet, everywhere his eyes stopped, they were met with Ezra’s charming touch. The man was more of a collector than a real bookseller. He still couldn”t figure out what attracted him so much to this man. Perhaps his good humour and kindness, or his moving clumsiness, his little frowns as he thought, or the anxiety which sometimes tinted the features of his face. Anthony had the impression of knowing him like the palm of his hand, as if they had always known each other, had been together for years. He had to admit he felt quite nervous himself. Elated, of course, but also anxious he would take a wrong step and spoil everything like he always did. Anthony had no friends or family. He had made sure to keep people away from his life, to have no ties; why would Ezra suddenly be an exception? Nevertheless, he could not bring himself not to see him again. He could give him a chance, he knew it.

Anthony took a small breath and closed his eyes. He loved this place very much; the bookstore was quiet and peaceful, and the familiar smell (the one of Ezra) that floated in the air made him at ease, although he couldn’t explain it. A smell of ancient books, lavender and hot chocolate. He felt like he was coming back to a dear, familiar and precious place. A place he’d missed and finally found.  
When Ezra returned, smiling, he immediately began the conversation while setting their tea cups on the coffee table. He put some cookies in a small plate.

“Thank you again for the cookies!” Anthony swifted the thanks with a gesture of his hand. “I was so sorry to see the bad weather when I woke up. I would have loved to take a little walk in the park in the afternoon” he confessed, nibbling on one of the cookies. “But I’m still pretty happy, now.”  
“Oh yes?” Anthony teased. “I wonder why.”  
“Oh, shush. The cookies are delicious!”  
“You’ll thank the baker.” Anthony mumbled before taking a long sip of tea. It was different, this time, orange-flavoured. “You know, you should ask people before serving them tea. What if I was allergic to citrus?”  
Ezra’s face disintegrated. Anthony immediately reassured him:  
“I m not, I’m messing with you. Relax.”  
"Oh my dear, you really are impossible. Do you even like it ?”  
“Um. I like it very much.”

Ezra seemed pleased, radiating with bliss, as if the compliment had not been about the tea, but himself.  
Which, in the end, was perhaps the truth. Anthony ironically smiled at him before getting lost in his blue eyes. It seemed to him that Ezra had resumed the line of conversation, and he thought he one or two anecdotes about an old uncle who lived in France, but the rest was lost around him, blocked by the contemplation of these eyes of his; an ocean of kindness and warmth. The other half of his soul. This observation catched him off-guard, took his breath away. With Ezra’s company, Anthony no longer felt alone, he was finally whole, complete, he had the impression of breathing again. He was no longer lost, he found a place he belonged in someone’s universe, in _their_ universe. A universe they may not even have been even aware they were sharing. He was exactly in the right place. He felt like he belonged to something - someone - and accepted it without restraint.

A small silence settled between them, probably a little too long, because Ezra’s eyes filled with concern :

“Is everything all right?” he asked him with care.

Anthony caught up several times, his throat knotted, stopping him from speaking. Finally, he nodded and smiled at Ezra.

“Now yes, I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

Ezra blinked several times before smiling back.

“Yes, I know.” he said.

They looked at each other for a few seconds, seconds that seemed to last for hours, then smiled timidly with the certainty of having met again.

And for the first time, Anthony felt _home_.


End file.
